


The Key

by espetrell



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Post Reichenbach, johnlock if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espetrell/pseuds/espetrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is working undercover apprehending Sebastian Moriarty after the Reichenbach Fall when he catches sight of John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Key

           Sherlock should have remembered that despite the statistical absurdity of meeting a familiar face in the concrete jungle of bustling London, it always seemed to happen anyways.

 

           “ _Darling_ Johnny, I can’t thank you _enough_ for coming here with me!” Agatha trilled, squeezing Sherlock’s arm even further. “I’m sure you have much better things to be doing than seeing your girlfriend off at the railway station!”

 

           Sherlock swallowed down a trillion acerbic comments on the ways in which there _were_ better things to be doing, and how seeing people off at railway stations was so sentimental it made him sick to stoop to doing it, and Aggie could you _please_ stop babbling on about your sick auntie from Kent and just tell me how to kill your dear employer Mr. Sebastian Moran.

 

           “Of course not,” he said instead, with all of the charm he could muster. “Are you sure you’ll be alright without me to take care of you?” Sentiment _and_ misogyny. He could vomit.

 

           “Oh, _Johnny_ ,” Agatha laughed, “I’ll be just fine. Seb will just have to deal with the fact that I have to get vacation sometime or other, and -- Is that man staring at my ass?”

 

           Sherlock braced himself to have to pretend to be offended that any other man could dare stare at his…oh, he couldn’t even call her his girlfriend in his mind, the thought disgusted him. He looked over and scowled at John, who was standing on the opposite platform and obviously-

 

            Oh, _fuck._

 

            Even though Sherlock had no reason to doubt his original intuition, he allowed himself to stare at John for just long enough to catch military-bearing-oh-no-he’s-got-a-limp-again-that’s-HIM before hurriedly whipping around in the hopes that John had not looked over and seen him. Sherlock had come to understand that even the most ordinary people grew to consciously or subconsciously recognize the tiny tics and mannerisms that made a person unique, given time. A deductive genius such as Sherlock given years of constant exposure could not fail to recognize a person, even at a distance. It took Sherlock all of his strength not to keep staring, soaking in all the details of the man he had not seen for…three years already. Even his brief glimpse had spotted a subtle slouch in the shoulders, a slowness of step that attested to the weight of that absence, even after all this time.

 

            In a moment of desperation, Sherlock swooped down and kissed Agatha, ignoring her giggle of mixed surprise and embarrassment. Even if John could see through the disguise of the ginger hair and the overalls, he highly doubted John would connect Sherlock to a man with a girlfriend he was willing to kiss full on the mouth in public. At least, he hoped not.

 

            “Johnny,” -- and that name he had taken for himself made him a lot more uncomfortable now that the real John, the one that mattered, stood shouting distance away -- “You bastard, I’m gonna miss my train, don’t distract me like that!” And now, with an infernal noise and rush of wind, the train slid into the station, blocking John’s view of him with an air of finality. Sherlock tore his eyes away from the window that occupied the place in his vision where John had stood, forcing himself to grin in Agatha’s general direction. Then he stopped, because Agatha was suddenly smiling at him and rummaging through her bag.

 

            “Look, I didn’t know if I was going to do this, but here you go,” and now she was holding out her key-ring to him. In response to his confused stare - Sherlock knew what was going on, but “Johnny” wouldn’t - she explained, “Look, if I’m not going to be at the flat for a week, you might as well make yourself at home. Maybe you can water the plants,” she said with another gale of laughter, and it was all Sherlock could do not to snatch the keys out of her hand, the bronze one with the quirky dog topper for her house door and the small plastic one for her bike lock and the elegant gold one _for the front door to Moran’s house_.

           

            “Not only will I water the plants, I’ll dust the shelves for you too. God knows you do enough dusting at Mr. Moran’s place,” he said, issuing another fake laugh and pocketing the key-ring before Agatha could change her mind. And with a “train’s leaving, hurry up,” he pushed her towards the train.

 

            “Another kiss?” Agatha smirked as though she was the wittiest woman ever born - the pretentious bastard - and leaned up, clearly expecting a kiss on the cheek at least ( _youngest-child-felt-estranged-from-her-mother-at-a-young-age_ ). Sherlock could not muster up the desire to humor her so he simply bent down slightly and kissed her on the top of the head.

 

            “I’ll be home soon,” he murmured into her hair. If Agatha did not understand what that meant then she had little idea that the comment was not meant for her at all, Sherlock mused as Agatha swept ahead of the closing doors and moved off with the accelerating train. The jingle of keys in his pocket filled his heart with strong but not entirely unwelcome emotion as he stared contemplatively at the spot where John had stood, now filled with empty space and the occasional passerby rushing through.

 

            “I’ll be home soon, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this came from one of my favorite Conan Doyle stories, The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, where a plot point is Sherlock getting engaged to a girl named Agatha to get info on the villain of the week. This is my first work, so...hope it was good? Please tell me if it was crap.


End file.
